


To Love, Honor, and Cherish

by chaospearl



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), I basically wrote this because Elidibus deserves to be happy too, M/M, Multi, Reader-Insert, Thancred is kind of an asshole, after we freaking killed him, also a gangbang, also featuring virgin!WoL, and some tentacles in a supporting role, but don't worry he got better, but if I can stuff more Ascians into the WoL I will, but it's not as dirty as it sounds, err I mean into this fic, it's okay so is Lahabrea, keep an eye out for a guest appearance by Nabriales, let's make a deal, like really close, sweetness and fluff in unexpected places, the Ascians have a close relationship, various pairings and threesomes, who really deserves comfort sex more than anyone, yes it's exactly what you're thinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-01-27 10:47:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21390877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaospearl/pseuds/chaospearl
Summary: You arrive in Amaurot expecting to confront Emet-Selch in battle, but instead he offers you a bargain:  He will use his power to ensure that you do not transform into a Lightwarden, and in return, you will remain with him and his brethren for five years; one for each of the Lightwardens’ aether.It’s a good deal.Featuring lots of sex and lots of Ascians and not really much else.
Relationships: Elidibus/Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light, Elidibus/Lahabrea/Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light, Elidibus/Lahabrea/Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch, Elidibus/Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch, Elidibus/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Lahabrea/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Nabriales/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 43
Kudos: 208





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know I'm supposed to be working on Spoils of War, and I am, but I read a fic recently that gave me a lot of Elidibus feels and I just really wanted to write something where he gets the happy ending he deserves. So, this happened.
> 
> Normally I add the tags as I post the relevant chapters, but for this one you get every tag at once because I wanted people to know what they're getting into here. Basically everyone mentioned in the tags (except the Scions, they aren't invited) has lots of sex with everyone else in various combinations. It's for the most part fluffy and sweet, but will likely get pretty dirty in places. You were warned.
> 
> Here be Ascians.
> 
> August 5 2020: I'd like to apologize to everyone who read this and told me they loved it, because I haven't updated in so long that I'm sure most of you assume I never will. Nah, I'm still here and this is not an abandoned story. I've had a spectacularly awful year so far and I'm just now beginning to pull my head out of my ass and start writing again. I can't guarantee this is the first thing I'll work on, but I do have outlined ideas for it, so hold on for a little while longer! I appreciate all of you more than I can say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter exists only to set up the background, and contains no porn. Sorry to disappoint, I just wanted to get all the plot out at once so that I can add chapters whenever I feel the need to write porn and can't be arsed to come up with a plot. Most of the chapter notes are likely to be a variation on "I've been struggling with writing some other story all night and needed a break, so fuck it here's some porn."

“No!” you hear Y’shtola cry. “You can’t, you mustn’t do this!”

“This is a trap, you know it’s a trap,” Thancred spits out. “This is what he’s planned all along.”

Alphinaud’s voice adds to the cacophony that echoes inside your head, “There must be another way, surely…” but he trails off uncertainly.

“Better to become a Lightwarden than to accept _ his _ help!” Thancred again.

You can’t think through the pain, the blinding power of the Light within you struggling to escape and begin your transformation into a monster, clawing and rending your soul itself as you fight to hold it in for one more moment, and then one more after that. The noise of your friends’ arguing is starting to blend into a dull roar in your head, throbbing like an icepick directly into your skull, and you feel your grip on reality tremble. You don’t have much time left. Joining with Ardbert had given you the strength to hold on for a few more precious minutes, but it wasn’t enough.

Emet-Selch is watching you impatiently, waiting for your response; focusing on you and you alone as if the angry, alarmed voices of the Scions were merely annoying mosquitoes buzzing about. Perhaps to him, they are. It’s only your answer that matters to him, after all. 

“You have run out of time, Warrior of Light,” he says at length. “I must have your answer now or it will become irrelevant when the Light takes you. Choose; become a Lightwarden here and now, and set upon your friends, or perhaps you will retain the strength of will to allow them to kill you. Or accept my offer, permit me to cleanse the corruption of Light from your soul, and agree to surrender to myself and my brethren for the next five years -- one for each Warden’s worth of Light I must take into myself.”

The Scions all begin shouting at once, again, desperate voices repeating the same arguments, louder and louder as each strives to be heard over the others in an entirely pointless effort as they’re all saying the same thing. _ Don’t do this, it would be better for all of us to die here than for the vaunted Champion of the Light to give herself to the Ascians. _

Emet-Selch snaps his fingers and the voices cease as a translucent barrier springs up before you, locking your friends away behind it. Thancred and Alisaie rush forwards and throw themselves furiously against the shimmering wall, as Y’shtola and Urianger begin casting spells. The others simply stare wide-eyed; Ryne is nearly wringing her hands in upset and worry, Alphinaud looks resigned and exhausted. Only the Crystal Exarch seems unaffected. G’raha watches you silently, and as your eyes meet his, he nods. He understands what your friends are refusing to consider in their desperation to find another way.

They cannot, will not believe that this is it, there is no other way. Perhaps they would be right to protest, if it were only a matter of sacrificing their lives and yours. You can’t think of anything that Emet-Selch, Elidibus, and the others might do with you that is worse than the deaths of your friends at your own hand, but right now you admittedly can’t think of much at all besides the pain of containing the boiling Light, so you’re willing to allow that there could well be something you’re overlooking. 

Still, the choice at hand is so much larger than that, and the futures of both the First and the Source hang in the balance. Should you lose your internal battle and transform, even if you were then slain by one of the Scions, the excess corruption of Light within you would simply be transferred, not dispelled; the First would never again see a night sky, and soon the shard and all the lives upon it would be Rejoined as the Eighth Umbral Calamity decimated the Source. To prevent that fate the Light must needs be eradicated completely, and only the Ascian before you has such a power. What he asks in return seems a pittance.

The world is beginning to blur into blinding white again, forcing a cry of agony from your throat as you summon the very last of your strength to shove it back. Looking up at Emet-Selch, you have no choice but to acquiesce to his bargain. It’s a struggle to get the words out, and your speech is choppy and punctuated by gasping breaths. “I’ll take... the deal. Please, help me. If you can.” 

You know your friends must be furiously denying your answer, and you’re grateful that you cannot hear it; this is your decision and yours alone. Your life for theirs, for the First, for the Source. It may be the best bargain you’ve ever made. Emet-Selch moves to stand beside you, holding out a hand in invitation, and with a last deep breath you reach out and take it. 

The relief is immediate. Cold, dark aether flows into you from where his skin touches yours, spearing into the overflowing Light and halting its progress, and you blow out a breath as the pain of it begins to recede. You feel the Ascian tremble slightly, his hand gripping yours reflexively in a bruising hold, and when you look to his face you realize how badly this is hurting him; the golden eyes are closed and his expression tight with the same pain you no longer feel. It hadn’t occurred to you before; of course the Light would be painful, dangerous, to servants of Zodiark. You try to tug your hand from his, knowing all at once what will happen should he appear to be vulnerable, but despite his soft appearance and lean build, Emet-Selch is far stronger than you. 

“Will the barrier fall if you keep taking the Light?” you ask urgently. His eyes blink open at that, and he glances back to where the Scions are still frantically pounding at the near-invisible wall he’s made, throwing spell after spell in vain. Thancred holds the white auracite in his hands, and his expression holds murder. Emet-Selch lets out a curse and pulls his fingers from yours.

“Yes, it will,” he says, and his tone is dark with anger, but not directed at you. “Wait here, warrior; for now I’ve bought you some time, and I do not trust your so-called friends not to stain your honor by allowing me to fulfill my part of our bargain and then ensuring, quite permanently, that you needn’t hold to yours. I will return shortly.” 

He disappears in a mist of violet and black aether, and you wrap your arms around yourself and shiver, taking a seat on the strange solid crystal of the ground. There is no going back now, as you’ve given your word and you intend to keep it. You steadfastly refuse to turn your head and look at your friends, knowing that Emet-Selch is right to be wary. Thancred was the wrong person to entrust with the auracite, another fact that becomes obvious in hindsight; his blind hatred of Lahabrea leads him to such fury against the Ascians that he would take joy in murdering Emet-Selch even if it meant he must go through you to do so. 

As promised, it does not take Emet-Selch long to return. He reappears in the very same place from which he left, stepping out of a rift-portal, and immediately he takes your hand again, looking you over as if to reassure himself that nothing has befallen you in his absence. Before you can say a word, a second portal opens and to your shock Elidibus steps through, his white robes and red mask familiar to you, and you note with relief that he no longer occupies the body of Zenos yae Galvus as his mortal vessel. He takes in the scene at a single glance; you, still bursting with painful Light, the Scions trapped behind the barrier and fighting to break through, and Emet-Selch with your hand clasped in both of his, the pure agony on his face evident as your Light flows into him.

“Hades, no,” the Emissary says immediately, and you’re confused for an instant before you realize he’s addressing Emet-Selch. “I won’t have you risking yourself. Let me do this.” As he speaks Elidibus takes your other hand, letting his ornamented glove with its deadly claws melt into shadows and vanish, and the two Ascians glare at each other in a brief battle of wills before finally Emet-Selch concedes the point and lets go. 

“I will admit that you are better suited than I for the task,” he says, shrugging with a small self-deprecating smile. It’s a very human, very mortal expression, and you decide that it suits him. “Never fear, Emissary, I shall keep you safe from the riff-raff while you work.” 

That Elidibus remains silent is testament to the tormenting pain he’s in as he draws out the Light from your soul, soon falling to one knee with a choked cry, though he maintains his grip on your hand. Emet-Selch is beside him instantly, supporting him with his hands on Elidibus’s shoulders, murmuring soft words of encouragement. Instinctively you reach out, intending comfort, but quickly realize your touch will only bring more pain. “I’m sorry,” you say, and you truly mean it. “I didn’t think, I hadn’t realized… is there anything I can do to make it easier?”

Emet-Selch shakes his head. “You bore this pain for far too long as it is, and the fault is mine; I did not think you would accept my help and so I waited, in the hope that you would find some other way. I would very much like to make it up to you, and to our dear Emissary, if I may.” 

The smile he offers you is absolutely wicked, and you feel yourself flush; there is no mistaking his intent, and your cheeks become even redder as you suddenly realize the nature of his relationship with Elidibus. He smirks at you, and nods in confirmation, clearly able to guess exactly what’s going through your head.

More time passes, with Elidibus continuing to pour his cool aether into you and take the corrupted Light in return, while Emet-Selch hovers near him protectively, clearly worrying and unconcerned with hiding it. This is the first time you have ever seen the two Ascians together, and their clear affection for each other makes you smile. Elidibus suddenly drops your hand and leans forwards over his bent knee, flattening his palms against the ground for support, and remains that way for a moment, shuddering. “It is nearly done,” he says. “Only allow me… to rest, briefly, and I shall finish it.” 

It’s clear that had he a need to breathe at all, he would be gasping the words. Emet-Selch’s expression tightens, his lips pressed together in a thin line. “Emissary,” he says, in a tone that allows for no debate. “You will do no such thing. Rest, and I’ll see it done.” He crouches down and presses a soft kiss to Elidibus’s forehead, and you resist the urge to glance behind you and see what the Scions make of the gesture. 

Elidibus scowls, but he knows a lost cause when he sees one and so contents himself with watching, concern evident in his features even behind the crimson mask, as Emet-Selch takes a deep breath before clasping your hand once more. You wait helplessly, unable to look away as he takes your pain into himself; it is not difficult to understand that this undertaking is far more dangerous to them than you had realized. Five years feels a pitiably short time when weighed against the clear risk to the very existence of an immortal being.

Your excess Light is nearly extinguished, and all three of you let out a sigh of relief as the last of it flows from you and into the Ascian, leaving behind only the ever-present spark of Hydaelyn’s blessing. “Thank you,” you say, nearly trembling with the sudden feeling of a huge weight lifting from your soul. Your friends may never forgive you for this, but at least they’re safe now, and so are both the First and the Source. Whatever is demanded of you, it will have been worth it, yet you have the curious feeling that your fate in their hands will turn out quite differently than you'd imagined.

Elidibus stands up, pulling you to your feet as well; you wobble slightly, realizing that your efforts in holding back the Light for so long have left you drained to near uselessness. Finally, you force yourself to turn around and look to Emet-Selch’s barrier at your friends. Their desperate attempts to break through it had ceased some time ago, and now they simply stand there silently, watching, and waiting for what will come. Thancred still grasps the white auracite with an expression of purest rage; the twins only look lost, and Ryne’s face is sad, while Y’shtola’s eyes are narrowed in thought and Urianger seems contemplative. Unexpectedly, the Exarch gives you a small smile. You wonder what they’re thinking, whether you dare ask to speak to them.

“Will you now keep to your half of our bargain?” Emet-Selch asks quietly, and you glance over at him, startled. He stands just behind Elidibus, letting the Emissary relax against him, his arms wrapped around Elidibus’s waist. You blink, noticing now for the first time how much taller he is; or perhaps it is that Elidibus practically radiates power and control, even weakened and near spent as he is, making his diminutive height unnoticably irrelevant.

“What? Did you think I wouldn’t?” you say, not sure whether to feel indignant or confused. “What happens if I say no?”

The two Ascians exchange a glance, and then Emet-Selch sighs heavily. “Then you remain here with your friends, one would assume, and perhaps this experience will lend weight to my offer of cooperation and understanding. Elidibus and I shall return to the Source shortly; with the Light wholly obliterated, the Rejoining has failed, and there are plans that need undoing lest they disturb the balance.”

You stare at him, completely dumbfounded, and he gazes back at you steadily, a sadness in his golden eyes. “Did you expect that I would force the issue? I... we would have you of your own free will, or not at all. We will not make a captive of you.”

You honestly have no idea what to say. The obvious thing would be to take the unexpected gift of freedom and rejoin the Scions; it will take some smoothing-over before they forgive your impulsive decision, but all has worked out for the best. You’ve won, you’ve prevented the Calamity and saved millions of people on two shards, fulfilled the Crystal Exarch’s purpose in bringing you here, and neither you nor your friends needed sacrifice your lives. It had been a close thing, so very close; Y’shtola was nearly lost to you… but for the intervention of Emet-Selch, who asked nothing in return for the gift of your friend’s life.

Nothing in return when your own existence dangled from the most fragile of threads, your transformation into a Lightwarden nearly certain, until he offered his help once more, making a bargain that you suddenly realize he never intended for you to keep. It was done only because he knew you would suspect his motives, see an Ascian scheme behind his every move, unless he seemed to demand something for himself in trade.

As Elidibus expected nothing in return when he risked his own existence to save yours, and you remember the agony on his face, the sound of his pained cry when he fell, and still he gave of himself until he had nothing left to give. 

“Can they hear me, through the barrier?” you ask.

Emet-Selch waves his hand lazily at the translucent shimmer that separates you from the Scions on the other side, and it flashes for an instant before settling. “They can now,” he says. “Do you wish to hear them as well?”

“No, thank you,” you say. “It’s for the best.” You start to walk over to the barrier, but exhaustion and dizziness catch up with you, and you barely manage a yalm on your own before you’re stumbling. Emet-Selch bites off a curse and vanishes, reappearing instantly by your side just in time to catch your fall, and a moment later Elidibus takes your other arm to help steady you. 

“Do be careful,” the Emissary murmurs. “I would hate to have gone to all that effort only to watch you expire from sheer exhaustion, collapsing and breaking your pretty neck.” He raises a hand and strokes his fingers across the width of your shoulders, pausing briefly to tap one ornate metal claw against the back of your neck.

You blush, unable to hide a shiver that has nothing to do with the cold, and let the Ascians help you over to where your friends stand clustered behind the barrier. They look at you expectantly, hopefully, and for a moment you can’t bring yourself to say a word. Finally, you manage, “I’m sorry. It is my life, and I did as I thought best.” 

Thancred turns on his heel and walks away, still furious, and you know you’ll never make him understand why you couldn’t let him enact his plan to wait until Emet-Selch had crippled himself to save your life and then entrap the Ascian’s soul in auracite and destroy him. Frustrated, you look back at the rest of your friends. “I’ll be leaving with the Ascians,” you tell the Scions, and you feel Emet-Selch startle slightly at your back. 

“You should know that this is my choice. Emet-Selch offered to let me out of the bargain I made,” you say, and watch your friends’ eyes widen. “But I gave my word, and I’ll keep it. They saved my life at risk to their own, and I won’t repay that with betrayal. I owe them so much more than the five years I promised. I’m told that I won’t be a captive, so I’ll come back and visit when I can, or when you have need of me. If... if you want to see me, that is.” You fight to stay the tremble in your voice.

“I can bring you as often as you wish,” says Emet-Selch, and you glance over to see him smiling at you, a soft, sweet smile that you’ve never seen before, and then and there you make a vow to yourself to coax that smile to his lips as often as you can. “Although,” he adds, “it would be appreciated were I not greeted by white auracite.”

“I know you probably don’t understand why I’m doing this,” you say, still facing your friends, “but I hope that you can forgive me for it. This is what I want.” You offer a final smile and then turn your back on the barrier, not wanting to make your leave-taking any worse than it needs to be. You’ll see the Scions again soon, though it will be up to them whether they want to see you.

“How will they make it back to the Crystarium?” you ask, as the thought suddenly hits you. 

Emet-Selch heaves an aggrieved sigh. “I shall take care of it,” he says, “providing you submit to allowing Elidibus to carry you through the portal. You’re not in any sort of shape to cross the rift under your own strength, and I’ve need to rid myself of this mortal flesh before I may return to the Source.” 

“I don’t mind,” you say, although the thought of being cradled by the Emissary’s embrace sends shivers down your spine, and from the way he’s looking at you, you have the oddest feeling that he knows it. Before you can give the matter any further thought Elidibus has neatly plucked you off your feet to be held in his arms, and you relax against him, trusting. Emet-Selch leans over and kisses you softly, and you find yourself smiling against his lips. You know what they both want from you, and you will give yourself gladly to their pleasure, and perhaps yours as well.

“I will join you soon,” Emet-Selch says. “Do be kind to our Emissary, if you please; he among us all is the most deserving, and yet the least often to indulge himself. Perhaps you may convince him to change that.”

You hear Elidibus’s soft chuckle, and then a portal opens before you, and he steps through with you in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are. Did you know that there are only 15 fics on AO3 for the Elidibus/WoL pairing? Some are unfinished and not all end well for him. That's some bullshit, so hopefully this will be a balm to the souls of all you Elidibus groupies out there.
> 
> If you're wondering what the hell I read that prompted this outburst of feels, it was Tacit by Neila_Nuruodo. You can find it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21375922


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck it here's some porn.
> 
> Ahahaha, sorry I had to. Yes, here is your lovely porn at last, but let me say one or two things first.
> 
> You will notice that Elidibus gets a name for his very own in this chapter. Let me tell you that I struggled and whined and made people crazy in my attempts to find something that I liked. Fuck you very much, SE, for starting the Greek gods and gods in general tradition, because it is really damned limiting. The one I ended up using is perhaps not The Perfect Name and there's a possibility I'll come back and change it later, but for now it'll do. I'll explain why I chose this particular name/god in the end notes.
> 
> Also, if you re-read chapter one you may notice there's a tiny bit of extra description at a certain point; normally I hate doing that but it somehow escaped me that there is a significant difference in height between the two Ascians. Emet-Selch is 6'4" while Elidibus is 5'6" and needs like a stepladder to kiss his lover. He's short okay.
> 
> That's all for now. Enjoy your porn!

You cannot tell how long the journey back to the Source takes, Elidibus easily navigating the rift with you cradled in his arms, but the portal he opens brings you to what looks like a richly-furnished bedroom. Thick carpets cover the floor, and there is a writing desk and several bookcases along with an elegant wardrobe and a canopied bed so large it could easily fit four or five people. You glance around in brief interest, but your focus is mainly on the Ascian who still holds you close, as if you were fragile and precious.

“You can put me down, now,” you say, smiling up at him, but you’re not altogether sure that you want him to.

“I could indeed,” he murmurs, yet makes no move to do so. Instead he merely watches you, remaining silent, and you wish you could tell what’s going through his mind. His expression is closed off, what you can see of it behind the crimson mask and deep hood of his white Emissary’s robes.

“Elidibus?” you ask. 

“You are temptation in its very essence,” he growls softly, and then he dips his head down and kisses you. He’s not gentle about it and you make a small sound, startled, but your arms slip around his neck and you return his kiss eagerly, parting your lips to let your tongues slide together, exploring his mouth and allowing him to do the same to you. He tastes of magic, the deep richness of his aether filling you and making you light-headed with its intensity.

He sits down on the edge of the expansive bed and shifts you in his embrace without breaking the kiss, allowing you to sit up in his lap and wrap your legs around his waist, and you press yourself against him shamelessly. You could kiss him for hours, but he doesn’t need to breathe and you do, so eventually you’re forced to pull your mouth from his, panting softly.

“You understand that this, to give yourself, is not required of you, I hope?” he says in a soft tone. “You may ask me to stop whenever you wish, or simply say no, and it is the same of Emet-Selch, and of…” Elidibus hesitates for a moment, “of all of us,” he finishes.

“I know,” you tell him, slightly curious as to whom it might be that he thought better of naming. Perhaps it is simply that he and Emet-Selch are the only living Ascians you know, and other names would not be familiar to you. “I don’t mind, that is, I want to. It’s only that, um.”

Elidibus strokes the side of your face gently with his ungloved hand. “Something makes you uncertain?” he asks. “I imagine your thoughts to be in quite a turmoil after all that has taken place. You may, of course, have as long as you need to decide what it is you want.”

“This isn’t something that time will change. It’s just, you did save my life and you didn’t ask for anything, and I… want to show you my appreciation? I want to, um, do something you’ll enjoy, to make you feel good. Only… I don’t, I don’t know how.”

He tilts his head to the side, looking at you questioningly, and you plunge ahead.

“I don’t have any experience with this,” you mumble, forcing the words out almost inaudibly as your face begins to flame. “I’ve, ah, never done it before.”

You feel Elidibus freeze, hear his single indrawn breath, and quickly you search his face for the emotion he’s feeling. Is it annoyance? Anger? The damnable crimson mask hides his eyes, making it nearly impossible to tell; his mouth is open slightly as if he were about to speak, only he clearly doesn’t know what to say. Perhaps shock, then.

“You… are virgin?” he finally manages.

Slowly you nod, then look down at your hands in your lap, fidgeting. “I’m sorry,” you say. “It’s never seemed important.”

Elidibus exhales all at once, blowing out a breath that seems to hold exasperation and affection in equal measure, and no small amount of pure disbelief. “My dear, there is nothing for which you need apologize, I’m merely surprised. Surely someone so celebrated as yourself, and so very lovely, has had ample opportunity to take a lover, if not more than one. That you have not, and further that you would offer such a rare and precious gift to an enemy… I admit I do not understand.”

“You aren’t my enemy anymore,” you say. “I’m not sure that you ever really were.”

He smiles. “Full glad am I to hear it. I have never meant true harm to you nor those you care for; I simply seek to preserve the balance, and there was a time when you came closer than you knew to disturbing the scales, which forced my hand. Provided you do not repeat such folly, you have nothing to fear from me.” Leaning forward slightly, Elidibus places a gentle kiss upon your cheek before continuing. “Still, you must admit that ours is a fragile truce.”

“Maybe it is, but I watched you take the Light into yourself and I’m beginning to understand how much you risked to do it. And I know what it felt like, the agony you were in. I would want to offer you something in return even if…” you trail off briefly, blushing again now, and then forge ahead. “Even if it didn’t feel so good when you touch me, but it does, and I trust you. I want this. I want to feel your hands on my bare skin, I want to know what it’s like, and I want… I want you to take me. I trust you, Elidibus.”

Straddling him as you are with your legs around his waist, you can feel the beginnings of his arousal, and it sends a shiver through your entire body to know that he wants you. That you can affect him so with only your words. He takes in a soft, shuddery breath before reaching up to push back the hood of his robes, and to your surprise and pleasure, he also takes off his mask and you look upon him for the first time. His face seems young for a soul so very old, framed by long hair of pale silvery-white, and his eyes a dark midnight blue, the color of the evening sky as dusk fades into night or the fathomless depths of the ocean.

“You are aware, I trust, that Elidibus is merely a title,” he says. “My name is Brahma.”

Your smile is bright as you lean in to kiss him again, knowing that it must be rare indeed for him to share the truth of himself. Before you can press your lips against his, you feel the tingling of the aetheric sense granted you by the Echo and a mere instant later the space beside you is wreathed in black and violet as a portal opens, depositing Emet-Selch into the room. Seeing Elidibus’s hood and mask removed and you sitting in the Emissary’s lap, he gives you both a knowing smirk.

“Well now! I see I’ve interrupted something quite interesting,” he says. “That is normally _ my _ place in which you look so very comfortable, my dear warrior, but I suppose I will cede it to you for now. Are you enjoying yourselves, I hope?”

Although he has said nothing of the sort, the too-cheerful tone of his voice spurs you to realize that Emet-Selch must be wondering if there is room for him in this cozy tableau. And, of course, there is. You wriggle yourself backwards out of Elidibus’s hold and stand up, then take a seat beside him on the bed rather than atop him, fighting against the blush that must be spreading across your face yet again. You’re not sure what to say, if anything.

“Indeed we are, and your presence will only heighten it,” Elidibus says, standing and crossing the room to tug Emet-Selch into his embrace. “I’ve missed you, my sweet and so very insecure love. You should have called me in earlier; you were far too long on the First, and do not think it’s escaped my notice that much of your time there was spent in close company of white auracite.” 

Emet-Selch clears his throat. “Ah, yes. There were exigent circumstances, I do assure you.”

“It’s clearly an entirely futile effort trying to keep the two of you safe,” Elidibus grumbles, and you wonder to whom else he’s referring, as it can’t possibly be you. He yanks Emet-Selch closer and pulls his head down to kiss him hard, biting at his lower lip, demanding entrance. The taller Ascian acquiesces easily, bending to accommodate the difference in their heights and opening his mouth to let Elidibus plunder his warmth, and their tongues battle sweetly as Elidibus slides his hands down Emet-Selch’s back to squeeze his ass, pulling their hips together and grinding against him. You watch wide-eyed and not a little aroused, and finally Emet-Selch breaks their desperate kiss to let out a soft moan, his breath coming in little pants, although you know by the black Ascian robes he now wears that he has no mortal host to inhabit, and no need for air.

“You _ have _ missed me, haven’t you,” he finally manages to say, taking a moment to bring himself under a semblance of control, as Elidibus watches him with a satisfied, slightly predatory smile. 

Emet-Selch glances over at you, taking in your huge eyes, your pupils dark and dilated, and your breathing faster than it had been a moment ago, and his smile turns wicked. “Did you enjoy seeing that?” he asks, the familiar smirk curving his lips. “Would you like to watch while he takes me, right here? Or… would you prefer to be the focus of his attentions, perhaps?” He prowls closer to where you sit completely entranced, his electrum eyes locked on yours, and you can’t make yourself look away.

“Elidibus is often rough with his toys,” he murmurs, reaching down with an ornately gloved hand to run one metal claw over your lips. “You might prefer that I play with you, instead. I would very much enjoy that.”

“She’s untouched, Hades,” Elidibus says quietly, a slight tone of reproach in his voice. That must be Emet-Selch’s true name, you realize.

Emet-Selch looks startled for a moment, then he smiles at you, expression now holding a sincere warmth that echoes the sweet smile you liked so much in Amaurot. “How very unexpected. That is a gift worthy of our Emissary, I think; a gift of trust, of pleasure, an offering of yourself, and I am glad for him to have it. He so very rarely takes anything for his own, busy as he is with giving to everyone else.”

Elidibus comes to stand beside his lover, deep blue eyes looking down at you with a troubled gaze that says he thinks you will regret giving yourself to him, but his desire to have you wins out and after a moment he sits down and then moves to the center of the bed, pulling you along with him with his hands around your waist. He takes your face gently in his hands, vanishing his remaining ornamented glove, and kisses you.

His kiss is soft but insistent, very unlike the rougher one of earlier, and you part your lips to let him taste you again, reaching back to run the fingers of one hand through his silver-white hair. You’ve been wanting to touch it from the moment he pushed down his hood and you’re not disappointed; the strands are supremely soft, cool and silky against your skin. Elidibus makes a pleased noise in the back of his throat, and you smile against his lips. You’ve always enjoyed having your hair played with, too.

As he kisses you, nipping your lower lip here and there and licking at your tongue, you feel Emet-Selch pulling off your boots one by one; he tosses them aside and moves on, unfastening and removing as much of your clothing and armor as he can reach. When you’re down to only a simple tunic and trousers, he slides his hand caressingly around your calf and you shiver at the soft prickling of aether. “May I?” he asks you.

You’re forced to pull your mouth away from Elidibus’s to reply, who simply adjusts course and begins kissing and licking his way down your neck without so much as a pause. 

“Yes?” you say hesitantly, not entirely sure what you’re consenting to, but it becomes clear when Emet-Selch trails his gloved fingers from your ankle upwards to your thigh and the fabric covering your leg melts into shadow and disappears. He does the same to the opposite leg and then moves both hands slowly up to your waist, rubbing gentle circles along your hip bones with his fingertips as the ornate metal claws prick against your skin, and finally you’re left wearing only your panties and tunic. Then he offers you a sinful smile and snaps his fingers, and your tunic is gone as well.

Elidibus traces his fingers down your bared spine and you shudder, arching back into his touch. His wandering mouth is now latched onto the soft skin of your neck, sucking a deep red mark into it, his ministrations drawing a whimper from your throat. Hearing the sound, he lifts his head, wrapping his arms around your waist to draw you close with your back pressed against his chest. “Too much?” he murmurs into your ear.

“Don’t stop,” you say, your voice trembling. “Please, I need… will you touch me?” You’re drowning in sensations, and it isn’t enough; you want more, your heart is beating madly in your chest and you want to feel their hands on your skin, you want, _ you want_.

He nudges you forward just enough to slip a hand around your back, unhooking and removing the cloth band that binds your breasts before tugging you against his chest once more, fingers trailing lightly down your arms to your waist. You squirm desperately, and then finally his hand slides up your abdomen to cup one of your breasts, and he gives it a gentle squeeze, his thumb lightly caressing you. Emet-Selch bends to fasten his mouth onto your other breast, his teeth deliberately grazing your areola as he sucks at your peaked nipple, and the twin assault leaves you reeling; you let out a low moan, pleasure building in your core, making you feel tight and hot. 

Emet-Selch’s hands drift down to your inner thighs, pressing gently outwards until you realize what he wants and part your legs for him; he slips a finger under the band of your panties and tugs, sharp metal claw easily slicing through the flimsy fabric, then he pulls the torn garment off you entirely, leaving you fully nude. His gloves come off as well, and your breath hitches as he presses the palm of his hand against your sex. 

As you shudder Elidibus cradles you securely against his chest with one arm around your waist, his other hand playing with your breasts; cupping, stroking, and squeezing, slowly driving you mad with desire, while Emet-Selch’s fingers teasingly circle your labia, ghosting across your aching slit. You wriggle and squirm, panting, your sex throbbing with _ heat _ and _ want _ and _ need _ as you try in vain to escape Elidibus’s hold and buck your hips up, desperately seeking more contact with those teasing fingers. 

“Please!” you cry in frustration, and Emet-Selch gives a low, wicked chuckle; the sound _ tugs _ at things deep in your core, and you can’t help the needy little whine that escapes your lips. He takes pity on you and carefully slips his finger past your entrance, working it in gently before pulling back out, then thrusting in again while you moan helplessly, unable to keep from clenching down against the intrusion. 

“_Yes_,” you hear Elidibus murmur in a low voice that’s nearly a hiss, "make her _sing_ for us.” He rolls one of your nipples between thumb and forefinger, plucking at it until you can’t take it anymore and cry out in mixed pleasure and pain, before repeating the motion on the other breast. Emet-Selch slides a second finger inside you alongside the first, slowly pumping them in and out, stretching your slick inner walls as you writhe and pant and moan, losing yourself in the pleasure both your Ascians are giving you.

“So deliciously tight and wet,” murmurs Emet-Selch. He spears his fingers into you in a sudden deep thrust, and in the same moment Elidibus pinches your nipple roughly, and you simply… _fracture_. Your back arches involuntarily as an overwhelming pleasure overtakes you, rolling through your body in a heated wave, again and again, and you spasm helplessly in its wake. The sounds you’re making are completely incoherent, little mewls and gasps of pleasure as your body shudders, muscles tightening and releasing without your conscious control. It seems to last forever, until finally you slump backwards against Elidibus, shivering, and he strokes your hair affectionately. 

Emet-Selch pulls his hand from between your legs and brings it up to his mouth, tongue darting out to taste your wetness as he licks his fingers. “A rousing first performance, my dear,” he says. “You taste exquisite, far too sweet to sample merely the once.” 

Before you have a chance to muddle through the echoes of pleasure still fogging your mind and realize what he intends, he’s spread your thighs wide and dipped his head down between them, licking at you much like a satisfied cat at the cream. It’s almost too intense and you let out a small whimper, but his tongue is soft and warm against your folds and it doesn’t take long before you feel hot desire building in your core again. It’s soon clear to you that Emet-Selch has had extensive practice at this and he chooses not to tease this time, instead licking and sucking at your sex as though he knows exactly what will drive you crazy, his skilled tongue delving inside your entrance and laving your inner walls while you pant out your pleasure. 

“Oh, oh, yes, please,” you’re starting to babble again, not fully in control of the sounds coming from your mouth. You feel yourself trembling, the deep ache of _ need _ ratcheting up higher and tighter as he licks at you, and only Elidibus’s tender yet firm hold pinning your arms to your sides keeps you from grabbing at Emet-Selch’s head to push him further down against your sex.

“Use his name,” murmurs Elidibus into your ear, and with the aching desire pounding through your body it takes you a minute to remember what that is.

“Ahhh! Hades!” you cry out, and you feel him shiver as he pauses in his task for a brief instant, his hands clenching on your thighs, and he makes a soft, almost desperate sound, a needy pleasure sound that causes you to nearly keen with delight to hear it. Elidibus reaches down to rub his fingers around your clit, and you come apart again with a cry, your body shaking in near-convulsions of ecstasy.

As you shudder helplessly against his chest, eyes closed and still whimpering in pleasure, Elidibus shifts himself from behind you and carefully lays you down onto the soft pillows, stretching out beside you on one side while Emet-Selch does the same on the other. Together they ease you down from your orgasm, petting and stroking your exhausted body with comforting touches and soothing whispers. You reach out to return the caresses, but they’re both still clothed in the heavy, ornate Ascian robes, Emet-Selch in black and Elidibus in white, mirror images of each other. 

“Can I touch you?” you ask in hesitant tones, unsure if it will offend. You want to feel their skin against yours, but perhaps they prefer to remain clothed. In response, Emet-Selch raises up a hand and snaps his fingers, vanishing both sets of robes and leaving himself and Elidibus wearing only loose trousers of a soft, rich fabric. For a moment you simply look at them, nearly unable to believe this is truly happening; surely this is a scene out of many a woman’s wildest fantasy. Of course, Ascians have the ability to appear however they choose, so perhaps it is not surprising that they are almost unfairly attractive. Emet-Selch is by far the taller of the two and his shoulders broader, in keeping with the Garlean appearance he has taken, but both men are lean and toned, with chiseled musculature. 

A slow, wicked smile spreads across Emet-Selch’s face as he sees you looking at him, and he places both hands behind his head and arches his back, stretching, all too clearly aware of his own beauty. You can’t help but grin at him, and you hear Elidibus’s amused chuckle.

“He is a lovely thing, isn't he,” the Emissary murmurs. “He makes the most exquisite sounds if one knows how to coax them out, and such delicate skin that shows every blush, and every mark I leave on it.” Emet-Selch is blushing now, you notice, soft pink flush traveling all the way down to the top of his chest, and you can’t help reaching over to brush your fingers across his collarbone. His skin is soft and warm, and he gives a little hum in appreciation of being touched. 

“Your fascination with the royal person is, of course, noted, but I don’t believe I’m the main event tonight,” he says, and you’re not sure whether to laugh or try smothering him with a pillow. 

Then your heart skips a little at the reminder of what you intend to do, and you look over at Elidibus, suddenly unsure of why he would want you; compared to Emet-Selch you’re a fractured, broken creature with a drab countenance and a body marred by the scars of many battles. Your thoughts must be plain on your face, as Elidibus leans over and gives you a soft kiss, his hand moving to stroke your thigh gently.

“Are you certain this is what you want?” he asks, dark blue eyes searching your face for doubts or hesitation. “You would be more comfortable with Hades, perhaps.” Mutely you shake your head; it’s Elidibus to whom you want to offer this gift of yourself, he who saved your life at risk to his own, and, you can finally admit to yourself, he who has flitted through your fantasies ever since your first meeting long ago, when he so courteously asked to test the depths of you. 

“Is it so difficult for you to indulge yourself, love?” Emet-Selch asks him quietly.

“Rarely have I been offered something I have wanted for so long,” comes the reply, in a soft and almost fragile tone that is strange to hear from the Emissary, “offered it so freely and without cost or guile.” 

Elidibus sits up and pulls you closer to him before nudging your legs apart so that he may kneel between them, then stretches his body out atop yours, pushing himself up slightly so as not to give you his full weight. In this intimate position his hips press down against yours and you can feel the bulge of his arousal, making it clear how much he wants to have you. He slips a hand carefully between your thighs, checking your readiness, and you feel him shudder at the evidence of how wet you are for him. Your breath hitches and you reach down to tug at the lacing of his pants.

“So impatient,” he says with a smile, but his eyes are dark with need when he looks down at you. “I… warrior, this will be painful for you, you must know that, so I’ll ask again; are you certain you want this? Once I’ve taken you I may not have the control to stop.”

“I don’t care,” you whisper, your heart beating frantically in your chest. “Please, Brahma.” At the sound of his name on your lips he closes his eyes and sighs softly.

“Hades,” he says. “I want you to bring her into your soul space. I would have her feel as we do, and I don’t trust myself.”

Emet-Selch, who has been silently watching in rapt attention, reaches out to trail his fingertip along Elidibus’s spine. “She has nothing to fear from you, but very well.”

“Close your eyes, my sweet,” he says to you, and you do so obediently. An instant later you feel… a tingle, a soft brush against your aetheric sense that somehow tastes of Emet-Selch, though you can’t understand how you know that. You try to relax as he presses further against you in some indefinable way, enveloping you in a wave that overwhelms, sweeping you along where he wants you to go, surrounding without crushing, though you understand all at once how easy it would be for him. His aether completely engulfs yours as though you are but a small speck floating in an immense, infinite sea, and you tremble slightly at the thought that this is what you had come to Amaurot prepared to battle. Even after seeing the huge city he had recreated with his aether alone, you hadn’t understood until this moment how vastly, hilariously outmatched you were.

“Yes,” he says softly, and you realize that you had shared your thoughts without knowing it. “I will teach you another time how to control the connection to a greater extent; it is easier if you join with me rather than being pulled in as I did. For now, just relax and let yourself feel. I imagine you’ll know when Brahma’s soul brushes yours.” He chuckles, and you _ feel _ his amusement all around you; the moment you do, suddenly you can also feel his deep arousal and desire, anticipation, tightly controlled _ not my turn tonight _ but still wanting, and you’re _ yes let me watch you have her _ drowning in it _ both so beautiful _ being subsumed by need like you’ve never felt before. 

Your eyes fly open and you moan, long and low, a helpless sound made up of everything you feel _ everything he feels, wants_, and you shove your hips upwards, grinding against Elidibus, wrapping your legs around his waist tightly as if you could take him inside you by sheer force of will. He makes a startled noise and then groans softly, and before you can blink he vanishes his pants and you feel his hot erection pressing between your thighs, and you moan again, rubbing yourself against it shamelessly. 

All of the Emissary’s careful control _ shatters_.

He bites off a curse, wrapping a hand around his cock and guiding the swollen head to your entrance, and there is nothing gentle about it as he snaps his hips downward, forcefully burying himself inside you in one hard thrust. A scream is ripped from your throat as you feel something tear and it hurts, _ oh gods it hurts_, he’s so impossibly thick as he impales you on his cock, pulling back slightly and ramming in deeper with a half-strangled cry of pleasure. 

The wild sound reignites your desire and need in an explosion of heat that spears directly into your center, and dimly you are aware that this is Emet-Selch’s arousal rather than yours but you don’t care, you don’t care about the pain of it, you can feel your body tightening as Elidibus fucks you deep and hard, using you for his pleasure in an incoherent haze of desperate need. You rock your hips against him with each rough thrust, you’re clawing at his bare back in your frantic passion and you don’t care about that either, you just _ want _ and your breath is harsh and gasping, your cries of pleasure and pain and need filling the air in a senseless chorus. 

You can feel something building, a huge, dark wave on the very edge of your aetheric perception, towering over you and poised to devour with hungry need, to swallow you whole as it rends and tears, but instead of fear there is only exhilaration and a deep, affectionate joy. You have a single instant to understand that this too belongs to Emet-Selch before you feel Elidibus thrust himself deep into you one last time; his entire body shudders, and a hoarse noise is torn from his throat as his cock pulses inside you, cool aether spilling from him. The darkness that is Elidibus crashes down and pulls you with it, pleasure such that you have never known ripping into you and you scream, writhing in helpless spasms of ecstasy, your muscles clenching down so violently you nearly black out.

Elidibus collapses on top of you, deep shuddering breaths causing his chest to rise and fall, and you watch as Emet-Selch combs his fingers gently through his lover’s hair, _ affection joy you are everything to me_. He looks up at you with that sweet, soft smile you love so much, and it feels like loss when he carefully retreats from you, pulling back his aether and closing your connection. “Are you well?” he asks, and you know that he had felt your pain as well as your pleasure.

You huff out a soft laugh, or try to; with Elidibus on top of you and every muscle in your body protesting movement, the sound is closer to a sigh. “I didn’t expect it would hurt quite that much,” you admit, “but I never knew it could feel that amazing, either.”

“I am sorry,” Elidibus says quietly, and you can hear the self-condemnation in his voice. “I never meant to be so rough with you, I…” he trails off. “There is no excuse. This is what I feared from the start, and I should not have allowed it to happen. Such harsh treatment of an untouched woman; you did not deserve that.”

You slide your arms around him and run your hands over his back, rubbing gently over the deep scratches you’d left, but there is no blood on your fingers when you look, only cool liquid aether that dissolves into a mist before your eyes. “I seem to have been rough with you as well,” you say, slightly guilty, and he chuckles softly and carefully, slowly pulls himself out of your body, giving you a sweet kiss before he moves to lay on his back beside you. 

“I am not mortal, my sweet. Such things are nothing to me.”

Emet-Selch slides over to rest his head on Elidibus’s shoulder, letting out a soft sigh, and his hand traces idle patterns on the Emissary’s chest. “As much as I would like to sleep,” he says, “I think that a hot bath is in order. You may not bleed, my love, but…”

You wince as he hesitates to continue, but you need to know, so carefully you raise yourself up on aching muscles and peer between your thighs, then flop back onto the pillows with a groan. There is not as much blood as you feared given the amount of pain, but there’s enough, and between that and the cooling sweat that now coats your skin, you do need a bath before you sleep. Only that would require moving, and it seems an impossible effort just now.

Emet-Selch seems to guess what you’re thinking, because he laughs quietly. “I suppose I can carry you,” he says. “After all, I did not have that pleasure earlier. Or I could simply teleport us both down the hall, but it’s best not done until you’ve healed.” He stretches once and then sits up, reaching over Elidibus to lift you into his arms as if you weighed nothing. You notice suddenly that he’d vanished his pants as well at some point, but it’s probably too late to be bothered that you’re both completely naked, so you ignore it and cuddle yourself against the warmth of his chest, and he smiles at you.

Elidibus waves a hand at you both lazily. “You will not mind if I rest while you clean yourself and soak, I hope? I have… some thinking to do.”

“I think I can manage,” you say, hoping that you haven’t said or done anything wrong. Emet-Selch stands up with you cradled in his arms, and heads towards the bedroom’s door.

“Do something about the disaster you two have made of my nice satin sheets, would you please, love?” he asks on the way out. Fortunately, he's able to step out of the way of the pillow Elidibus launches at him, and you can’t help a slight giggle as he carries you off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brahma is a Hindu god, one of the religion's main triumvirate; Brahma the creator, Vishnu the protector, and Shiva the destroyer. His job is to direct the universe and serve as the balance between Vishnu and Shiva, and that seems to suit Elidibus nicely. Especially because if I tilt my head slightly I can see Emet-Selch as Vishnu and Lahabrea as Shiva. I apologize to any Hindus out there I may be offending with my ham-handed understanding of your religion, so PLEASE correct me if need be.
> 
> This is my first threesome fic, so be kind.
> 
> And yes, it is absolutely Lahabrea whom Elidibus is trying very hard to not mention at the beginning because the WoL has had enough of a shock without realizing he's very much alive; we'll get into that later.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally intended to have two separate scenes in it, but the first one ended up running much longer than I had planned, so I decided to post this as its own chapter and move the second half into Ch.4.
> 
> Alas, Elidibus does not appear in this chapter, I am sorry! The next one will be up in a few days, since it was already partially written by the time I realized I needed to split things up. And... well, you'll see, it will all be worth it.

“Where is this place, exactly?” you ask, as Emet-Selch carries you down a hallway that contains at least five different rooms, branching off into more corridors at each end with a colossal stairway leading down from the center. “It seems like someone’s house, someone really rich, but I’m assuming it’s hidden somehow?”

“It _ was _ an old, ruined mansion, built long ago when such excessive private residences were still permitted this near to the city,” he says. “From the outside it remains in poor repair and unoccupied, and rumors of hauntings and voidsent keep the curious away. Any who do draw near suddenly find themselves uninterested as they pass a particular aetheric weaving, and turn back the way they came.”

“The city?”

“Ul’dah,” he says with a smirk. “From time to time we require things brought in from the outside, and it is the best place to be when one is in need of discreet services in exchange for gold.” 

Emet-Selch shifts your weight onto one arm and snaps his fingers with the other, a heavy golden coin appearing in his hand, which vanishes with a twist of his fingers just as quickly as it had appeared. “Creation of currency is a mere parlor trick, but to Create foodstuffs is an entirely different matter. Such things are edible enough, yet they lack flavor and richness; I do so enjoy my creature comforts, and that simply won’t do.”

He opens a seemingly random door and your eyes widen as he steps into what is clearly a bathing-room, but the space is larger than some cottages you’ve seen. About half of it is taken up by a pool deep enough to have steps leading down into it, which is fed by some sort of fountain on one side and the water carried away on the other. There is also a spacious glass enclosure you assume to be a shower, and a tub that could easily fit three. A set of shelves holds dozens of glass bottles, vials, and jars in various colors, as well as a stack of fluffy towels taller than you are. 

You look up at Emet-Selch, who is obviously enjoying your reaction. “Ascians don’t even need to bathe, do you?” you ask suspiciously. “Most of the time you don’t have a mortal body, and when you do, you can just…” you wave your hand in a gesture imitating the ones you’ve seen them use, half afraid that if you try snapping your fingers, he will make something happen just to tease you.

He shrugs, still smirking. “As I said, I became quite fond of certain mortal enjoyments in my recent years as Emperor. Though I will admit that I’ve little use for towels, or scented potions and salts. Those are for you, my dear; I wished to ensure you could use the baths without needing assistance.” 

“If Alisaie knew a bathing-room like this existed, she might well change her loyalty on the spot,” you mutter, eyeing the enormous tub. 

Emet-Selch snaps his fingers and the tub begins filling itself, steam from the hot water billowing softly into the air. “Let’s get you clean, first,” he says. “I cannot imagine you wish to soak in soiled water, and I’m quite sure I do not.” You flush slightly upon realizing that he intends to join you, though at this point it’s a wonder you have any modesty left when it comes to him; after all, you have touched his very soul, and he yours, an experience far more intimate than any physical union could ever be.

He carries you over to the collection of soaps on the shelf, content to wait patiently with you in his arms while you lean over to inspect the contents of various bottles and jars, finally selecting one that smells of vanilla and fresh lilacs. Your choice made, he brings you down the steps into the bathing pool, wading in waist-deep before laying you carefully into the warm water. It becomes apparent almost immediately that he’s still supporting you somehow; you’re floating on your back higher in the water than you should be, and by none of your own effort. You can almost but not quite feel something beneath you, undulating gently with the water’s movements, holding you up and keeping you in place, and you can’t help squirming a little as you try to figure out what it could be; with a start you realize there is not just one but many of whatever-they-are. 

You narrow your eyes at Emet-Selch, who is smiling all too innocently as he watches you wriggle in what is clearly still his grasp, though you’re unable to figure out how that is, as he’s not visibly touching you. He pulls your floating body closer to him and pours some of the liquid soap directly onto your chest, using his hands to work it into a lather and spending far more time soaping up your breasts than you feel is necessary before moving on to the rest of you. You close your eyes for a moment, letting yourself relax and just float in the warm water, enjoying the feeling of his hands on your naked body. You’re perfectly capable of washing yourself, but if he wants to indulge you a little more, you’re going to let him. 

Soon Emet-Selch has carefully lathered and cleansed every inch of your skin with caressing touches, and just as you’re wondering whether he will spread your thighs to wash away the lingering blood, and what else his hands might do while he’s there, you feel something soft and slick brush against your foot. The same odd sensation repeats on the other side, and you open your eyes to see your ankles being encircled by slim, deep violet-colored… vines? 

Not vines. Tentacles.

Startled, you look up at Emet-Selch, who is watching you closely to monitor your reaction; his smile is mischievous, but there is hesitancy in his golden eyes, even a bit of anxiety, and you realize he is searching your expression for fear or disgust. Suddenly you understand that this is not merely a bit of fun, aether formed into a playful shape to toy with you, but rather something fundamental to his very being. You have always been aware, of course, that he is not mortal, that none of the Ascians are and the Unsundered least of all. Yet somehow you’ve never given it much thought beyond that, never realized that _ancient_ _immortal being _could mean something far more than simply undying; something eldritch, and perhaps monstrous.

The water of the bathing pool is crystalline clear, but beyond the very tips of the strange tendrils curled about your ankles, you can see nothing, not even a blurred distortion beneath the water where more of them must be supporting you as you float, and you wonder how many there are. Clearly they belong to Emet-Selch, as much a part of him as any other, and just as clearly, his true nature must be nothing at all alike to the mortal shape he currently wears. Perhaps one day he will show you.

He’s still waiting for your response to a question he hasn’t asked; there was no need to voice it aloud. You in turn have a dozen questions of your own, but instead you only say, “Well, those must certainly be useful.”

To your consternation Emet-Selch’s usual smirk returns at the same moment that a third tentacle brushes between your legs, the slippery length of it sliding against your sex beneath the water, and you’re not sure whether it’s relief or disappointment you feel when he does nothing else with the odd appendage. “They are indeed _useful_,” he practically purrs, all traces of the former hesitance gone. “For some things more than others.”

You feel your ankles being tugged apart by the tentacles, spreading your legs to allow Emet-Selch to clean off what little blood remains between your thighs, and his fingers gently separate your delicate folds and crevices as he washes you, no longer using the sweet soap but simply letting the water rinse you clean. His ministrations are careful and thorough rather than teasing, but you still let out a soft sigh of pleasure at his touch, and you feel him shiver at the sound. Deliberately you press yourself against his fingers, making a little disappointed noise when he pulls his hand away.

Emet-Selch chuckles quietly. “You are a needy little thing, aren’t you,” he says, and you blush because he’s right; even those small, brief touches were enough to wake your arousal and send warmth and desire pulsing through your body. 

“Well then, never let it be said that we did not accommodate your every desire,” he tells you, lifting you out of the water and back into his arms. He brings you to the side of the pool and seats you on the curved edge, letting your feet dangle into the water, then pushes at your shoulders until you’re leaning backwards; you start to bring your hands behind you to brace yourself, but there’s no need, as your spine is being cradled by a thicker tentacle that hadn’t been there a moment ago, and a second tendril slithers behind your neck for support. You see Emet-Selch smile when you lean your full weight back, relaxing against them -- against _ him _ \-- and it doesn’t feel nearly as odd as you would have guessed. 

You can feel his tentacles behind you, soft and warm against your skin, but you can’t see anything of where they originate; surely they must be attached to the rest of him somehow? Puzzled, you tilt your head to the side and watch him intently, trying to figure this out, and it must be plain what you’re thinking because Emet-Selch moves up close to you as if presenting himself for inspection, managing to look both smug and entirely guileless at the same time. You sit up so that you can run your hands across his chest and around to his back, exploring his upper body with soft caresses as you momentarily forget your purpose in the pleasure of touching him, and he makes a soft, pleased sound. He has no heartbeat, but you can feel his abdominal muscles fluttering beneath your touch as you skim your fingers along his warm, wet skin, searching for something that is not there.

“Try not to think so hard about it,” he murmurs. “You’re not yet ready to understand what we are, beneath the mortal shapes we choose to show you.”

“Will I ever be?” you ask.

“I hope so.” Emet-Selch smiles warmly at you, and you feel a gentle tug at your shoulders from the tentacles behind you, encouraging you to lay back against him again, so you do. At the same time his hands go to your thighs, spreading you wide, and you watch breathlessly as he drops to his knees in the water, bringing his head much closer to the level of the pool’s edge where you recline with your legs splayed open for him.

He leans in close, blowing out a soft, warm breath against the folds of your sex, which are now slick and wet from far more than your recent bath, and you feel yourself quiver. Your inner muscles are tightening as your core pulses with renewed arousal, and you can still feel the painful soreness there, warring with a growing desire to be taken again, filled, _ used._ Your aching need only increases as Emet-Selch begins to lick at you delicately, tasting you at his leisure in no particular hurry, and you moan softly, wanting more. Your hands and hips are kept completely immobile by more of his tentacles coiling around your body, leaving you no choice but to squirm helplessly while he enjoys you as he wishes, and it appears that his wish is to torment you into insensibility with slow, deliberate licks, circling his tongue around your clit without ever touching it.

It doesn’t take long until your entire body is wound as tightly as a coiled spring, your moans and pleas reduced to gasping little pants, and you can feel your needy sex throbbing in time with your heartbeat, but still he won’t relent and give you the release you want so very badly. He’s taking his time, savoring you as his tongue flicks against your soaking wet folds, now and then pausing to bite at the soft skin of your inner thigh with teeth that are far too sharp to be mortal, and you know he’s pleased at the marks he leaves behind. You let out a desperate little whine, ready to beg but you don’t know what he wants to hear; _ please _ so far hasn’t been enough to stir him from this slow, tormenting pleasure that you can’t take much more of before your body and mind give out completely.

Your breath finally hitches into a sob of pure need; you need him to stop, to keep going, you just _ need… _ and then you feel a warm tentacle curl around your breast, squeezing and plucking at your nipple, and he sucks your neglected clit into his mouth and scrapes against it with his teeth, and you _ scream _ all the air in your lungs is just _ gone _ and there are dark spots dancing in your vision, your entire body clenches down hard and contracts over and over again, it hurts and nothing has ever felt this good in your life, and when it finally ends all you can do is collapse helplessly against the tentacles supporting you and lay there limply, panting out small incoherent sounds that have no meaning, unable to move as little tremors of pleasure still shudder through your body.

Emet-Selch is looking entirely too pleased with himself, but you don’t have the energy even to muster up a scowl. He watches you smugly with his arms folded across his chest, a hint of laughter in the golden eyes as he uses his tentacles to hoist you off the edge of the pool and dip your spent, wrung-out body fully into the warm water, rinsing off the sweat and the dripping slickness between your legs before you end up needing another lathering of soap. Satisfied that you’re once again clean, he transfers you into his arms to be carried out of the pool, shortly afterwards settling himself down into the steaming water of the tub with you cradled in his lap, your head resting against his shoulder.

You sigh deeply as the soothing heat begins to soak into your abused body, relaxing bonelessly against Emet-Selch’s chest, his warm embrace the only thing keeping you from sliding limply down into the tub as if you were entirely liquid yourself. You wouldn’t drown, _ can’t _ drown, but you’ve never tried to breathe in such hot water and you assume the experience would be unpleasant. You lay there quietly with him for long minutes, content to allow this sore and aching mortal vessel of yours to soak out its pains in the wonderful caressing heat; not being currently possessed of one himself, you can’t help but wonder what Emet-Selch gets out of the activity besides an opportunity to hold you with your naked body pressed slick against his -- but he must know that he could do that anywhere. 

So much has changed in only a single day; this morning you led the Scions into Amaurot, desperate to hold off your transformation into a Lightwarden, to rescue your friend the Crystal Exarch from the clutches of an evil Ascian villain, to find a way to survive the coming battle against a vastly overpowered being and somehow save two stars in the process. How bewildering to think that it would end with you laying bared in the villain’s lap, relaxed and trusting, entirely his for the taking and of your own free will?

“Do stop thinking so loudly,” Emet-Selch murmurs into your ear, startling you out of your musings. He laughs softly and pulls you closer against him, threading his fingers through the damp strands of your hair. “Is something in particular on your mind?” he asks.

Smiling, you tell him your thoughts, and you’re rewarded by the familiar smirk. “Mine for the taking, hmm? I do like that,” he says in a voice that nearly purrs. “I shall have to put it to the test sometime.”

It occurs to you, finally, that with all of the pleasure he and Elidibus have given you tonight, Emet-Selch has taken none of his own, and you feel yourself flushing at how selfish you’ve been. Suddenly it’s quite obvious that although you’ve been laying slumped against him in his lap, he has managed to position himself so that you cannot feel… well now. You wriggle in his embrace, forcing him to adjust how he’s sitting lest you slip from his lap entirely and slide down further into the tub; an instant later you feel him freeze and his breath catches, and now it’s your turn to smirk, as his considerable erection is pressing up against your ass.

“How long did you think this was going to escape my notice?” you ask, feeling guilty that it’s taken you until now to realize how deeply aroused he must be.

“Will you kindly stop squirming,” he grumbles, pointedly not answering your question. “You are beyond exhausted and, I imagine, too sore in the muscles and _ elsewhere _ for further enjoyment tonight. I would prefer not to have to explain to Elidibus how it was that I let myself be coaxed into pleasuring you straight to unconsciousness.”

You deliberately squirm harder in response, rocking your hips back and forth to let his rigid cock slide along the crevice of your ass, and he shudders, a soft noise escaping from his throat before he can stop it.

“My self-control is _not_ _unlimited_,” he grits out through clenched teeth, trying uselessly to capture you around the waist and keep you from further movement without making the situation worse in the process.

“I’ve had more than enough of my own pleasure,” you say softly, “but I would like to feel yours. Hades. Please.” You’re playing dirty, letting him hear his own name from your lips, and both of you know that he doesn’t have it in him to say no. He’s been denying himself this need all night, and now you’re sitting naked in his lap, rubbing yourself against his throbbing cock and begging him to have you. Zodiark Himself would not be capable of refusing.

“You _ will _ tell me if I’m hurting you,” Emet-Selch demands, in a tone so low it’s nearly a growl. You nod meekly, intending to do no such thing, and he slides his hands beneath your thighs, lifting you into the position he wants and spreading your legs open further. You have a brief moment to feel the thick head of him pressing against your slit before he pushes upwards, just barely sliding into you before stopping, his entire body shuddering with the effort of controlling himself. 

It does hurt, but more because of how bruised and tender the area is than from any fresh pain, and you don’t mind the dull ache as he slowly, carefully lowers you onto his cock, pausing every few ilms to let you adjust to his size. When he’s fully hilted himself inside you, he lets out a soft sigh of pleasure and pulls you back against his chest to hold you close, one hand cupping one of your breasts with a light squeeze, his thumb idly caressing the nipple. After a few moments his need to _ move _ overrides the pleasure of just holding you, and he lifts you up a few ilms and lets you settle back down, repeating the movement a few times, bouncing you up and down on his lap with his full length buried deep inside you. It feels good; you’re too tired and sore for intense arousal, but it’s still extremely pleasurable to be so completely filled and stretched nearly to your limit, to feel Emet-Selch moving in you, his hard shaft gliding against your inner walls.

With an impish smile on your face, you clench down around his cock, squeezing him inside you; the sensation forces a quiet moan from his lips and he can’t seem to help bucking upwards in the first ungentle move he’s made, thrusting into you hard, once, twice, three times before he wrenches back control over his own need, letting out a soft growl from the effort.

You lean back against him, turning your head to press a sweet kiss to his neck, and whisper into his ear. “You feel so good inside me, Hades, you’re not hurting me. Take what you want, let me feel you _ take_.”

He makes a desperate, hoarse sound of pure undisguised need, and finally he gives in to it; in one smooth motion he stands up, pulling you with him and turning you both around, and you barely have time to grab on to the edge of the tub and brace yourself before he bends you over and pushes his cock inside you from behind, the new angle letting him have you even deeper. His hands grip firmly on your hips to keep you in place while he thrusts into your body, fucking you good and hard but not as roughly as you know he’s capable of.

You can feel your core trying to tighten with fresh desire, but you’re just too relaxed and too exhausted for it, and you’re enjoying how good this feels without being completely overwhelmed by your own need, making soft little pleasure noises that are nearly drowned out by the sounds of your wet bodies coming together, and the harsh, near-guttural growls from Emet-Selch as he lets go of more and more control. His thrusts become faster and rougher, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to bruise, and finally he pulls out of you almost entirely before slamming back in with enough force that you cry out, the sound blending with his own deep groan of pleasure as his cock pulses and you feel the cool liquid aether of his release filling you.

He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer against his body, and holds you there for a few moments, content simply in feeling you breathe, the gentle rise and fall of your chest, as he recovers his composure. After a short while has passed in this way he sighs softly and then carefully pulls himself out from your body, clearly relieved to see that there is no fresh blood on your thighs, before lifting you into his embrace and settling the both of you back down into the hot water of the tub. You snuggle yourself against him, feeling pleased and so very content, happy to have been able to give Emet-Selch the same pleasures he has heaped upon you; you only wish Elidibus were here as well to share in the closeness and comfort of this moment.

“Is… is Elidibus upset with me?” you ask, hesitantly. The Emissary had told you that he wished to think upon some things, but more and more you’re wondering if he meant it merely as an excuse to be away from you.

“Not at all,” Emet-Selch says immediately, sounding surprised. “If he is troubled by having lain with you, it is only for what he sees as an unacceptable loss of control that resulted in causing you unnecessary pain. Truly, it is very much like him to dwell on such things, rather than on the pleasure you shared.”

You let out a soft sigh and relax further against him, dropping further into the tub until the deliciously hot water rises to your neck. “I don’t want him to regret what we did. I know I don’t, I very much enjoyed it, but he was hesitant from the start and I’m afraid he’ll resent me for pushing him into doing something he didn’t want to do.”

“Oh, he very much wanted,” Emet-Selch tells you, with a wicked little chuckle. “May I share with you a secret, my sweet? Our Emissary has harbored desire for you from the very moment you pursued him through Vesper Bay and passed his little tests so easily. If you will recall, your so-called Antecedent, the Gifted one, attacked him nearly on sight simply for being what he is; but _you_ did not, and moreso you allowed him to satisfy his curiosity, trusting that he would not harm you so long as you offered him courtesy rather than violence. It was unexpected, given what we then knew of the vaunted Warrior of Light, the peerless weapon so often deployed in Eorzea’s name. Unexpected, and so very _ intriguing._”

“Indeed, it was the very strength of his desire to have you that bade him hesitate,” Emet-Selch continues. “He feared that it would overcome his rational thought, and for Brahma, such a thing is a most grievous sin. Despite my best efforts he is reluctant to give in and allow himself to simply _ feel_, rather than think and plan.”

You think about that for a while, submerged in the soothing heat and content to let your body relax while your mind wanders. At length you say, “Perhaps someone ought to give him no choice but to let himself feel, then.”

Emet-Selch’s golden eyes glitter with mischief, and the smile he gives you is truly wicked. “Perhaps someone ought to,” he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that happened. No Elidibus, but you did get tentacles, and that's always fun. Our beloved Emissary will return in the next chapter to star in a scene that I was specifically asked to include, and once I heard the idea I knew I needed to do it. So you can all thank Sheshaventures for what's coming...
> 
> Also, I think my favorite thing about this chapter is the moment when I managed to write an entire paragraph in one sentence before including a single full stop, by way of an absolutely unholy combination of ellipsis, semicolon, and far too many commas. Technically speaking, it is not grammatically correct; creatively speaking, I don't care. #writingnerd


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you know when I said this chapter was already partially written because I'd started it as part of Chapter 3 before realizing I needed to split it into two chapters? And that it should be done in a day or two? And how I said that almost 20 days ago?
> 
> Yeah... so um, you can probably just ignore anything I say about when I think something will be posted. Clearly, I cannot be trusted.
> 
> This fucking chapter fought me tooth and nail. It was epic, sometimes I felt like I was struggling for every word. I am beyond relieved to have it completed and shoved out the door, and I hope that you all are, too. Please enjoy the porn.

Emet-Selch insists on carrying you out of the bathing-room, wrapped in one of the soft, fluffy towels; you’re going to become quite spoiled if this keeps up, but you can’t bring yourself to protest much. He brings you back into the bedroom, where Elidibus is sitting at the writing desk making notes on a vellum scroll while he leafs through the pages of a heavy, battered-looking tome that lies open in front of him. The Emissary’s crimson mask is once more in place, but he has forgone the heavy, ornate robes of his office in favor of a simple loose white shirt and the laced trousers he’d worn earlier beneath the robe. 

He glances up from his work as Emet-Selch comes in with your drowsy and half-asleep form cradled in his arms. “I do hope you two enjoyed your bath,” Elidbus says, his amused glance telling you that he’s well aware of exactly what went on in the bathing-room, and you have the grace to blush, though of course Emet-Selch only smirks. 

Elidibus stands from his chair and closes the book he’d been working on, then rolls up his scroll and fits it neatly back into a leather case of similar scrolls. “I am certain you must be exhausted, my dear,” he continues, “so I shall retire to the library and allow you to rest. Hades will stay with you if you wish it; he does so love his sleep.”

His tone is calm and courteous, and the cool distance in it makes you flinch; you know why he’s trying to withdraw, that he blames his loss of control for causing you pain, but you can’t help feeling hurt and rejected nonetheless. You take a deep breath and ignore the sting of unshed tears that threaten, but you aren’t sure what to say in reply. Fortunately, Emet-Selch is having none of this; he places a soft kiss on the top of your head, shushing you, then lays you down on the bed and glides across the room to pull Elidibus into his embrace.

“And if I wanted you to stay?” he murmurs, tugging Elidibus’s silvery white hair out of the neat queue that had contained it so he can run his fingers through the pale strands. He has not bothered with a towel, of course, entirely comfortable with his nudity in a way you could never be, and you cannot help the way your heart begins to beat faster as you watch him with his lover.

“You always want me to stay,” comes the Emissary’s soft reply, “but I do not wish to discomfit our guest. I have done her enough wrong this night, it is for the best that I remove myself so she may sleep without the reminder of my presence.”

You feel your heart give a little squeeze at his words, realizing too late that you should never have left Elidibus alone immediately after the intimacy you’d shared together, that he had taken it as a wish to be away from him and the pain he’d caused you. He declined to join you and Emet-Selch in the baths because he thought you did not want him there, and you hadn’t questioned it because you were too busy worrying that _ he _ might wish to be well away from _ you_, that he might regret having lain with you at all. 

A fine knot the two of you have tangled yourselves in; hurt caused by misunderstanding leading to further hurt.

Clutching the towel tightly above your breasts, you slip from the bed and move to join Emet-Selch, wrapping your arms around the still-hesitating Emissary; Elidibus is caught between the two of you, and with his body pressed against yours, you _ feel _ as much as hear his soft sigh. “Please stay,” you whisper, “I don’t want you to go. I’m glad that I gave myself to you, that you were the first, and I wouldn’t change a single thing about how it felt. Please, I don’t want you to regret me.”

Your voice cracks slightly on the last few words of your plea, and with it, Elidibus’s resolve breaks as well. His arms come up to slide around your neck, pulling you close to let your head rest against his shoulder. “I wish I could have been gentler, but I will never, ever regret you,” he says, “and I shall remember that pleasure for the rest of my days.”

“Accepting the pleasure that is offered you has never been one of your strong points, love,” says Emet-Selch with a low chuckle. “Indeed, I think that perhaps you might do with some _ practice._” The last word is nearly a purr as he takes both your hand and the Emissary’s, leading his lovers to the bed; he is up to something, you can tell by the wicked gleam in his gold eyes… but then, when is he _ not _ up to something?

Emet-Selch herds you both up onto the enormous bed, humming softly to himself as he arranges the scene to his liking with Elidibus in the center between you, and then, without warning, he pounces; the Emissary gives a startled yelp as he feels the touch of cool aether snaking around his wrists, and abruptly his arms are tugged upwards over his head, clearly pinned there although you cannot see that the aetherial tether which binds him is attached to anything. Scowling, Elidibus pulls at the restraints to no avail, and Emet-Selch smiles at him, looking both pleased and rather smug; he snaps his fingers and the loose shirt Elidibus is wearing vanishes.

“For once, my love, I have you at my mercy,” he says, reaching out to trail a hand casually, possessively, down Elidibus’s now-bare chest. “Taking in so much of the Light sorely taxed you, whether you wish to admit it or not. By the morning, perhaps, you will have regained enough strength that I could not hold you so easily, but tonight? Tonight, you are mine.” Emet-Selch looks over at you then, tilting his head to the side, and smiles. “Or perhaps, should I say… _ ours._”

“Ours,” you agree, suddenly feeling not nearly as exhausted as you had a moment ago. 

Elidibus huffs out a soft laugh, no longer bothering to struggle against his bonds. “Very well, I see that I must accept my defeat,” he says. “I submit to your pleasure; do with me as you will.”

“No, love,” murmurs Emet-Selch quietly, “you misunderstand. This is about _ your _ pleasure.” He bends down to press his lips against Elidibus’s for a gentle kiss that quickly becomes heated, the Emissary tugging at his restraints again in an attempt to get closer as their tongues battle and teeth nip and bite, until eventually Emet-Selch pulls himself away, panting softly. “I will not be so easily distracted,” he says, smiling. “Let someone take care of you for a change, love.”

You watch the two of them, knowing that you are staring and yet unable to pull your eyes away from the sight; both of your Ascians (when did you start thinking of them as _ yours_?) are inhumanly attractive in their own right, and together their beauty takes your breath away. You want badly to touch, but you hesitate to intrude upon the intimate scene, the tenderness of a love that has endured for millennia. Then Elidibus turns his head slightly and his eyes meet yours from behind the crimson mask he still wears; just for a moment, and then he looks away and you remember that he thinks he’s hurt you, despite all your protests to the contrary, and you know that you need to tell him otherwise with more than just your words.

Shifting yourself closer to where Elidibus is laying on his back, you let your gaze roam boldly over his body, not bothering to hide the heat in your eyes. With both arms stretched over his head and pinned in place, the muscles of his chest and abdomen are clearly defined, pale skin slightly flushed after the kiss he had shared with Emet-Selch, and his loose hair makes a silver-white waterfall against the pillow. 

You want to touch, almost _ need _ to, so you do; reaching out, you skim your fingertips along his arm, starting just below the strange rope of aether that holds his wrists securely, tracing a slow path down the soft skin on the inside of his forearm and then over his bicep, ending with your hand resting on his shoulder. His hand jerks reflexively at the first gossamer touch of your fingers against his wrist, but the restraint holds him fast and you feel the faintest trembling of his arm beneath your caress, which becomes a definite quiver when you bring your hand up to his other wrist and repeat the gentle stroke, trailing fingertips along his skin.

You continue your exploration of his body, sliding your hands across his chest, tracing over his pectorals, enjoying the freedom to simply touch for the sheer pleasure of it, discovering his reaction to each brush of your fingers across his skin. His breath hitches slightly when your fingertips trail over his nipple, so you return to it and delicately trace a circle around the hardened peak before grazing it with your nail, and Elidibus makes a breathless little sound. You hadn’t known that men’s nipples could be that sensitive, but it makes sense, so you spend some time playing with this new discovery, petting and stroking and giving light little pinches and tugs in the same manner you enjoy on your own body, learning what to do from the soft pleasure noises he makes as you touch him.

Elidibus still wears the crimson mask of his office, but you want to look at his face and see the expressions in the deep blue eyes while you give him pleasure; you don’t want him hiding from you again. Pulling your attention away from his bare chest for a moment, you run a fingertip delicately along the side of his face simply because you can, the thrill of being allowed to touch having not yet faded, and then lift away the mask. He smiles at you as your eyes finally meet his, and you can’t help but lean down for a kiss.

The tingling taste of magic and coolness and aether that is Elidibus fills your mouth as you kiss him, one hand stroking his hair away from his face and the other tracing an idle pattern across his shoulder and collarbone; you cannot seem to stop touching him even for a moment. 

At the sound of a soft, amused chuckle you pull yourself away from Elidibus and look up, startled momentarily to realize that Emet-Selch is still here; you had very nearly forgotten about him in your eager, compelling desire to touch and pet and stroke the temporarily restrained Emissary while he still permits it. Although you have known him intimately for such a very short length of time, you somehow understand how rare it is for Elidibus to submit himself in this way to anyone, even his own beloved; giving up control and allowing others to do as they will is simply not in his nature.

While you were occupied with kissing and touching every inch of Elidibus’s upper body, Emet-Selch has clearly been busy entertaining himself below; he’s unlaced and removed the loose trousers that were the single article of clothing Elidibus had been wearing, leaving the Emissary as nude as he himself is… and as you are, you suddenly realize. You can’t even remember when you’d shucked the towel you were wrapped in when Emet-Selch carried you into the bedroom. A self-conscious flush rises to your cheeks, but you strive to ignore it; the Ascians seem to have no modesty or shame at all, so why should you? Once more Emet-Selch clearly has an idea of what you’re thinking, and the hand with which he had been lazily petting Elidibus’s thigh he now slides over to take hold of his lover’s half-hard cock; his other hand he wraps around his own, and his smile is utterly wicked as he begins to stroke both himself and Elidibus in the same rhythm.

It is obviously intended as a performance for you to watch and enjoy, and _ oh, _how you do; you can’t stop the furious blush heating your face, but neither can you look away. The scene before you is debauched and absolutely pornographic as Emet-Selch makes a soft sound of enjoyment, Elidibus arching into his touch with a shuddering sigh, and you can’t imagine anything more erotic than Emet-Selch’s long fingers wrapped around his own shaft as he pleasures them both. Not allowing yourself to think about the boldness of what you’re about to do, you reach over and slip your hand just above Emet-Selch’s as he slides it down Elidibus’s cock, mimicking the smooth up-and-down movement, letting him show you what to do and how tightly to grasp. The two of you work in tandem for a few moments, coaxing a low moan from Elidibus that makes you shiver delightfully to hear, before Emet-Selch pulls his hand away and leaves you to continue pleasuring the Emissary on your own.

Elidibus is completely hard under your touch now, his cock flushed with arousal and beginning to leak; with his sheer thickness and length you have no idea how you ever managed to take him fully inside you, but the heated throbbing between your legs makes you ache to do it again. Still, this is about his pleasure, not yours, so you ignore the desire running hot in your blood and re-focus on stroking his shaft, feeling pleased with yourself at the way he’s starting to push his hips upwards, helplessly thrusting into your hand. 

The same cool liquid aether that earlier bled from the scratches in his back now pools at the tip of his swollen head, and you’re overcome with the need to taste it, to taste him; you dip your head and lick at him, running your tongue across his cock, and Elidibus makes a needy sound that is nearly a whine, reflexively bucking his hips upwards. Your hand glides down to the base of his shaft and you give a gentle squeeze, at the same time wrapping your lips around his head fully, and he moans, long and low, the heated sound cutting off into a muffled groan as Emet-Selch leans over and kisses him -- a hot open-mouthed kiss that delves into licking and biting and teeth, ending with Emet-Selch using his tongue to carefully clean off the blood leaking from his lover’s bleeding lip. He then takes a moment to suck a bright red mark into Elidibus’s neck before leisurely biting at his shoulder, apparently intent on tasting his way down the Emissary’s body, his mouth savoring every ilm of skin he can reach.

You force your attention back to what you’re doing, licking your tongue against the head of Elidibus’s cock and then giving it a little suck; you’re not entirely sure how to do this, but the liquid aether leaking from his slit tastes cold and sweet in your mouth, and his sounds of pleased encouragement bid you to continue, still gliding your hand up and down his shaft as you take more of him into your mouth. You close your lips around him and suck hard, slowly raising your head until your mouth slips off the tip of his cock with a wet _ pop_, and Elidibus cries out in wanton pleasure. Confident that you’re doing something right, you do it again, taking him deeper this time and sliding your lips up his shaft as you suck. Just as you pull your mouth away for the second time, you find yourself captured in a sweet kiss by Emet-Selch, whose journey licking and biting his way down Elidibus’s body has finally brought him within reach of your mouth; it seems he has decided to taste you as well.

Emet-Selch’s kiss is soft and almost delicate; a slow, lingering exploration of your mouth with his lips and tongue, fingers carding through your hair, and you find yourself melting against him with a little sigh of pleasure, your eyes closing against your will. He smiles at you, giving you another kiss before pulling away, then he takes your shoulders in his hands and pushes you down to lay beside Elidibus, your body pressing up against the bound Emissary.

“Rest for awhile, my sweet,” he tells you, “you are exhausted and you needn’t work so hard at the giving of pleasure; there will be other nights. I will show you the enjoyment to be had in simply _ watching._” He smirks, and you hear Elidibus chuckle softly. 

You turn on your side and wrap yourself around Elidibus, giving in to the urge to touch him some more, one arm burrowing beneath the pillow where his head rests and the other thrown over his chest, your fingers idly playing with his nipples again, and you feel him arch his back to press himself into your touch.

Emet-Selch snags a pillow before shifting down along the bed to kneel between Elidibus’s legs, pushing gently at his lover’s inner thighs to spread him a bit wider. “Lift up your hips for me, love?” he asks, and Elidibus obliges, allowing Emet-Selch to prop the pillow underneath, easing him into a comfortable position before dipping his head to take Elidibus’s still flushed and leaking cock into his mouth, deeper and deeper until he reaches the base, his pale throat rippling as he swallows around the shaft. Elidibus _ moans _ helplessly, Emet-Selch’s strong hands on his hips keeping him from bucking upwards, and he makes a desperate sound of pure _ need _ and _ want _ that sends newly heated desire rushing through your blood. 

You watch, now completely entranced, as Emet-Selch bobs up and down along Elidibus’s cock as he sucks; the Ascian has neither a gag reflex nor a need to breathe, letting his throat constrict around the swollen head with each swallow, intent on pleasuring rather than teasing. Elidibus is pulling at the bonds that restrain his wrists, little whines and gasps escaping his lips, his entire body nearly quivering with a deep need for release that has been building from the moment Emet-Selch bound him, the promise of pleasure intensifying with each and every touch, every kiss, lick, bite, suck, until it is nearly unbearable. 

You scratch your nails down Elidibus’s chest and he moans again, shuddering, and then Emet-Selch carefully slips a hand between his lover’s thighs and with his hips propped and tilted upwards you can see the two fingers slide in, and Elidibus cries out as his pleasure detonates, a hoarse, incoherent sound of absolute ecstasy that you feel as much as hear, your body pressed so close to his that his shudders are also yours.

You raise yourself up slightly and lean over to press your mouth to his, a gentle kiss while he regains his composure, a kiss that says how much you enjoy seeing and feeling his pleasure. Elidibus sighs blissfully against your lips, and you turn your head to nuzzle against his neck, pressing your nose into his hair and a soft sigh of your own escapes you. Then you hear him draw in his breath suddenly and let it out in a low hiss of renewed pleasure, and you raise your head and look to see that Emet-Selch is not yet done with his lover; his slim fingers slowly thrust in and out of Elidibus’s entrance, scissoring open to gently stretch the way.

As you watch, eyes wide and cheeks heated with a flush at the sheer intimacy of the act, Emet-Selch pulls his fingers out completely and grasps his own hard cock, giving it a few quick strokes, and you can see something slick glistening as he moves his hand, though there is no apparent source for what is clearly lubrication of some sort. Still kneeling, he eases closer and Elidibus spreads his legs to accommodate Emet-Selch’s hips, welcoming him with a soft exhalation of pleasure as he slowly pushes inside, easing in with gentle little thrusts until he’s buried to the hilt in his lover’s ass.

“You are so beautiful,” murmurs Emet-Selch, and there is adoration in his voice as he gazes at Elidibus, perhaps even worship. The Emissary’s midnight-blue eyes are closed now, back arched slightly as he simply enjoys the warm pleasure of his lover’s cock moving in and out of him in a slow, easy rhythm of deep thrusts; surely this is what is meant by _ making love_, an act too tender, too full of gentle sweetness to be merely sex. Emet-Selch leans forward to settle his mouth against Elidibus’s in a deep, hot kiss that echoes his movements, exploring thoroughly and slowly with his tongue. You watch as Elidibus opens his eyes, deep blue meeting shining gold, and the emotion on both of their faces is a clear and honest love.

You don’t know what you’re doing here, why they would let you see this passion so raw and true, let alone offer to share even the smallest bit of it with _ you _ of all people. You have been the Ascians’ enemy from even before the moment Hydaelyn appeared to you in a vision, warning you against Lahabrea so long ago: _ Ware thee the bearer of the Crimson Brand, for he is the Avatar of Shadow, whom death attendeth always. _ How naive you had been, to agree so easily that the Darkness must be an evil, that the servants of Zodiark must be stopped at all costs… and the costs have been many. You cannot forget Moenbryda, offering her very life’s aether in her determination to destroy Nabriales; what had made her believe so strongly that a defeated man, begging for his life, deserved that cruel fate? If only you had possessed at the time the knowledge you now have of the Ascians’ heartbreaking history and the reasons behind their actions; you might have saved Moenbryda and Nabriales both.

Would it even have made a difference? You recall your ruminations earlier in the bath with Emet-Selch; only this morning you had led your companions to Amaurot, knowing everything, and still convinced that the answer lay in battle to the death with the Ascian who had saved your friend’s life. _ What was wrong with you?_ When had you decided that the Ascians were villains, and when had you changed your mind? 

That question, at least, you can answer; _ everything _ changed when Elidibus risked his immortal existence to save your life, at the cost of ruining the Rejoining so carefully planned and executed, and at the very moment of their triumph. Perhaps, one day, they will tell you why. Until then all you can do is stay here with them, at least for the five years you have promised; stay here and learn more of the Ascians and their One True God, their ancient world, and their desperate hope. Stay here and know them, touch them, cherish them, and perhaps in time, love them?

You look again at Emet-Selch and Elidibus, enraptured in their lovemaking, twined together by passion and emotion as much as by intimate physical joining, their quiet sounds of pleasure and desire making your heart ache to be included. 

Elidibus is once again fully hard, as Emet-Selch’s hand is wrapped around his cock and stroking him slowly in time with the rhythmic thrusts. You watch as Emet-Selch bends down to bring his mouth to his lover’s shaft, giving a quick kiss and teasing little lick to the swollen head, making Elidibus moan softly; you manage to catch his eye as he straightens up; as is becoming the norm, he seems to know what’s on your mind, and offers you a wicked smile and a beckoning gesture, asking that you move closer.

You sit up from where you’ve been warmly snuggled against Elidibus and shift yourself down the bed a little, maneuvering yourself onto your knees in the process, and with some help from Emet-Selch behind you, you lift yourself up and straddle Elidibus across the hips, taking his flushed cock into your hand to guide him into your body as you settle yourself down. 

Slowly, so very slowly, you sink down onto his thick erection, making his breath hitch sharply each time you take a few ilms of his shaft into yourself and then pause, adjusting to the stretching of your innermost walls. You’re still incredibly sore and for a few moments you think this may not have been a good idea, but quickly the discomfort eases into desire as the wonderfully intense feeling of being _ filled _ takes over, the throbbing heat in your core urging you to lift your hips back up and slide down onto his cock again, higher and higher each time until you nearly let the leaking head slip out of you entirely before sinking back down in a hard movement that makes Elidibus groan deeply in pleasure. 

Soon enough you find your rhythm, bending your knees and flexing to bounce yourself smoothly up and down, and Emet-Selch matches your movements with his own, still kneeling between Elidbus’s thighs, pushing his cock deep inside his lover’s ass with a hard thrust each time you glide down to take Elidibus’s shaft fully into yourself. The double assault is clearly pushing the Emissary to his limits; he’s panting heavily now, no longer keeping his cries quiet, and he pulls helplessly at the restraint around his wrists as he writhes between the two of you, his need becoming more desperate with each thrust. 

You feel Emet-Selch’s hand on your waist, and an instant later you let out a soft moan and your back arches as he slips his fingers down to rub at your aching clit; you cannot see him behind you, but you _ feel _him smirking, you just know that he is. 

The hot stretch of Elidibus’s cock completely filling you, the needy, passionate sounds that he makes filling the air, Emet-Selch’s clever fingers stroking at you in exactly the way you need; you cannot help it, the rising wave of sheer pleasure crashes over you, cascading as it overtakes all three of you like dominoes, one after the other. Your body explodes in ecstasy, your slick walls caught in helpless spasms clenching down around Elidibus’s cock; he groans hoarsely at the sheer deep pleasure of it and comes hard, once again filling your core with his cool aether, and Emet-Selch follows you both in his own release with a soft cry, slumping forwards to lean against you with his nose pressed into your hair. 

For several long moments, no one moves or speaks, and only the sounds of deep breaths and soft sighs and contented pleasure-noises can be heard. Eventually, Emet-Selch remembers to release the aether that has held Elidibus bound for all this time; allowing the Emissary to bring his abused arms down at last, and he immediately reaches up to tug you down closer to him, giving you a sweetly chaste kiss. 

“I would be glad to stay with you tonight,” Elidibus says, and you smile, understanding that all is well between you once again. You sit up and stretch lazily, wincing at the protests from both your knees and between your legs as you slide yourself off his body, and settle back onto the bed with a little sigh. You feel good; deliciously _ used_, pleasured, sated… and utterly exhausted. 

Emet-Selch has also carefully pulled out of his lover’s body and by now arranged himself comfortably beside Elidibus, nuzzling at his throat to gently lick over the bite marks he’d left earlier. “You must allow me to offer you pleasure more often, love,” he says, looking rather smug. “Else I may decide that I enjoyed forcing the issue.”

Elidibus chuckles softly. “Decide whatever you like; I do not intend to be caught at your mercy so easily again.” He looks thoughtful for a moment, and then raises an eyebrow. “Do not think I’ve forgotten about the white auracite which you so conveniently did not mention to me, Hades. I think perhaps that soon, I shall keep you at _ my _ mercy until I’ve taught you that you are _ mine _ and I dislike your taking such risks.”

You don’t know if it was the tone of Elidibus’s voice or something in his words, but Emet-Selch shivers visibly to hear it, his expression going heated, and Elidibus gives him a sharp, predatory smile. “Yes… soon,” the Emissary repeats.

“I look forward to it,” Emet-Selch says, his voice low and suggestive, and then he laughs softly when a loud yawn punctuates the silence -- yours. 

You’re more than half-asleep already by now, curled into Elidbus’s warmth while you listen to your Ascians talk, and you feel him chuckle as he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you close. Emet-Selch for his part has curled himself around Elidibus and tugged the soft blanket over all three of you, creating a warm nest with the Emissary in its center. He snaps his fingers and plunges the room into darkness, and even as you doze off, you do not fail to notice Elidibus’s quiet, contented sigh.  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have definite plans for the next several chapters of this, but for now I'm taking a short break so I can put out another chapter of Spoils of War. I also have a new story in the works, though I haven't decided if I want to put myself in the position of updating three fics at the same time, so we'll see. 
> 
> I'd give you an estimate on when you can expect an update, but, well, we know better, don't we. 
> 
> Oh! Also, the next chapter will include Lahabrea, so I'm not sure whether that makes it better or worse that you'll have to wait a bit. I do not know whether he'll get to have any sex quite yet, it depends on how things play out and which of the three or four ideas for introducing him to this story I end up using -- but he'll be there and we'll find out what happened to him.
> 
> And finally I would like to briefly mention how much of a bitch it is to write the stupidly long overly-comma'd sentences you all know I so dearly love when the action involves two people of the same gender. If my readers ever have to play Guess Whose Pronoun, then I did it wrong, but I swear I felt like twisting the English language into a pretzel a few times.


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